


Catharsis

by mmmdraco



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/mmmdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The people he's not killing are killing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters, I mean no harm, I have no money... Stuff like that. Yeah.

Heero fucks anything that moves, or else he lets it fuck him. Since the war started, it's the way that things have been. It's warmth and forgetting and it expends excess energy. It's dangerous, because there's usually no protection, but he figures he's overdue for death as it is. The people he's not killing are killing him.

Duo is the first of his fellow pilots that he beds. It's a rough fuck with a few gentle words and caresses thrown in for good measure. Heero's legs ache for the next three days, but it keeps his mind from the fact that he's getting soft for not killing Relena the first chance he had. With her chin held so high, her neck would be easy to snap.

Wufei was next. It was silent, in a small space, with the heat making them sweat and slide against each other. Wufei drew blood from Heero's shoulder, but it was covered by the strap of his tank top. The day after, Wufei had marks of his own that Heero couldn't recall having made.

Quatre came next, and first, and several more times. He had begged for it, and Heero had refused at first, but had given in when the news started reporting things he didn't feel like hearing. Quatre was loud enough that the television was turned up louder and Heero heard the news anyway over Quatre's panting cries and keening wails. He slammed into Quatre even harder, hoping that the sound of their flesh coming together would help drown out death totals and assassination news. Instead, it was the pulse of his heart beat sounding loudly in his own ears as he came.

When Heero invaded an OZ base, he'd somehow managed to find himself between Zechs Merquise's legs. The man had half strangled him as they had sex, pressing a thumb against his neck the entire while. That also made his heart beat loudly in his ears, drowning out the sound of the sirens from the bombs he'd planted twenty minutes before. When Zechs reacted, Heero ran, pulling his clothes back on even as he shot a group of soldiers who were running from the explosions.

Treize had fucked him smoothly and gently, almost as payment for his Gundam. Heero almost felt like a girl getting fucked like that and tried to struggle for some sort of dominance. Treize just pressed pretty little kisses to the back of his neck and pushed himself further inside.

Trowa had come to his bed last, as he lay wide-eyed in the night, not even bothering to try to sleep. They had come together without words or struggle. They just fit together the way they were supposed to with something that was somehow gentle and fierce. They fell asleep afterward.

When the war ended, Heero found himself masturbating daily in an attempt to drown out the old memories. But, sometimes, he'd remember things, and other times he'd remember the things he'd used to forget them.

After the final colony conflict, Trowa came to his bed again with no words, and no struggle, and laid down with him. They slept soundly, somehow, with no worries. Heero woke up with Trowa's hair tickling the end of his nose and felt the heady throb of the heart beat in his head, drowning out everything but the fact that Trowa was there. He rolled onto his back, the sheets cool against his shoulders, and thought about the war.

That the pain was somehow not as strong nor as intense was a surprise. Instead, it was somehow just there, against a background of calm. Trowa's breath was warm against his shoulder and he could feel Trowa's knee brushing just against his thigh. A few twinkling lights made their way past the blinds every now and again, but there was no disturbance making him crazy enough to clutch his hair and pull hard.

Heero wished, six months later, that he'd thought to be careful for the sake of his partners even if he couldn't manage the sake of himself. He could recall the lectures he'd heard parts of when he was briefly attending school. When you sleep with someone, it's like sleeping with everyone they've ever slept with. And now? He didn't feel like sharing Trowa.

Things were rough. No words were exchanged. They got better. Then there were smiles. Trowa made him dinner and Heero did the laundry. They found jobs that were close to steady, perhaps as close as warmongers could get until they got to the level of politicians. Then, they moved in together.

Times were peaceful; doubly so with Trowa. But where Heero's mind had previously been filled with thoughts about the war, now he yearned to block out everyone he'd ever gotten close to except for Trowa. Because then, and maybe only then, he might find peace.

And then, one night, they start doing things that regular people do. They went to a movie and out to dinner because Trowa burned dinner because Heero was distracting him. They came back to the apartment and made the sex wait until they got to the bed. Heero was eased onto the sheets with care, and Trowa kissed him tip to toe with butterfly kisses and tonguing kisses and laving kisses and sweet little kisses that echoed through Heero's soul. When Trowa entered him, there was no pain, and Heero clutched at Trowa's shoulder and made noises that echoed off of the walls and back to his ears. He blushed slightly, and came hard the first time, and the second.

When Trowa held him close all through the night, and didn't mind Heero's tossing and turning, Heero realized that he didn't need to think about everyone else. What was done... was done. Trowa had feelings especially for him, and he thought the world of Trowa. In the grand scheme of things, that was enough. And if Heero needed a reminder, he could just remember the cinnamon scent of the nape of Trowa's neck. 

War was his life, and so was sex, and now he was distanced from them both. Because the things he did with Trowa in their bedroom at all hours of the day were not about blacking out his thoughts. Instead, it was about making new ones. It was catharsis.

And Heero, for one, felt relieved.


End file.
